


fly in the sun's rays, soak up its warmth

by silentlypunk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Depends on Your Perspective, Gen, Manga Spoilers, Retrospective, Sweet, by the time this fic ends love will no longer be a word, can be shippy, happy birthday Shouyou, he's a lover boy, this whole fic revolves around him like the planets around the sun, thought so, wrote this bc who doesn't love hinata?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24841471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentlypunk/pseuds/silentlypunk
Summary: It swings (woo woo)It jives (woo woo)It shakes all over like a jelly fishI kinda like it- Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Queen 1979an exploration of Hinata, and the seven Greek concepts of love.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 68





	fly in the sun's rays, soak up its warmth

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, sunshine boy. it's just gone 22nd in japan (just like your age haha) but that's alright.
> 
> last warning that this fic depicts up-to-date events in the manga, so don't read if you don't want to be spoiled.
> 
> otherwise, enjoy.

_“I wonder what it feels like to be in love with someone.”_

_All five of them stopped walking, five frozen statues holding popsicles under the setting sun._

_“Did you just…” Tsukishima looked as if his ice pop tasted like sludge. “Did you just say something, Hinata?”_

_Hinata’s expression was one of pure, open curiosity._

_“Hinata?” Yachi peered at him anxiously, chocolate ice dripping onto the ground. “Are you…do you have heatstroke?”_

_The crows cawed above their heads._

_When Hinata stayed quiet, Yamaguchi stepped in hurriedly. “Well…we’re all teenagers, and we’rearound 18, so it’s not that uncommon to be wondering about — that…right?”_

_“It’s uncommon because this is Hinata we’re talking about,” Tsukishima muttered, glaring at his strawberry popsicle. “I’m done with this conversation.”_

_“I’m serious!” Hinata squawked. The curls framing his face bounced as he jumped at Tsukishima, who took a wary step back. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like?!”_

_Tsukishima wrinkled his nose at him._

_Yamaguchi came to his rescue once more. “I mean, Hinata, there’s a lot of different kinds of love between people…”_

_“Exactly,” Tsukishima sneered. “Do you even know who the Greeks are? They defined seven types of love. Se. Ven. That’s more than you can count.”_

_“I’m going to shove your popsicle up your nose,” Hinata said._

_“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi berated. Tsukishima looked away. “Hinata, you can be in different kinds of love with a lot of people.”_

_Hinata’s eyes went wide. “Really??!?!”_

_Yamaguchi beamed at him. “Yeah! Ok, first of all, there’s_

**_philia; a love between friends._ **

Summer, 2013.

“Kenma!” Hinata shouts, bounding off the bus excitedly and rushing straight to the spindly third year, engulfed within seconds by red and black. “Inuoka! Lev! I missed you guys!!”

While the two taller second years mess with his hair and laugh, Kenma pulls Hinata in for a hug, wrapping his arms around the Karasuno boy’s shoulders. Hinata laughs and squeezes back, tight as anything.

“Kenma’s been a bit out of his depth since Kuroo-san left,” Yamamoto says with a wink, having greeted Tanaka with the same ceremony that one would reserve for a hero. “Doesn’t like calling me captain…”

“Shut up, Tora,” Kenma says, muffled in Hinata’s orange curls. “‘M not used to losing a lifelong servant is all.”

Fukunaga pulls at Kenma’s shirt. “Let go, kitty.”

Reluctantly, Kenma releases Hinata, who gives him a big grin. “It’s good to see you too, Kenma! I can’t wait to play against you!”

-

The minute they step foot into the main gymnasium, Hinata breathes in, exhilarated.

“Shinzen summer camp is the best!” he yells.

“Watch your step, dumbass!” Kageyama snarls, pulling Hinata back roughly. “You nearly stepped on someone’s towel!”

“Let’s not get too over-excited already,” Ennoshita says, tired from the long and rowdy bus journey. “Hinata, pick that up.”

“Yes cap’n!”

The whistle blew, signalling an end to the match on the nearest court. The thudding of volleyballs intermixed with calls of thanks, and players headed their way to get their things and greet Karasuno. Hinata picked up the towel and squinted at the name scribbled in bleeding ink on the washing label.

_A-ka-…A-ka-something-ji?_

“Thank you for inviting us again, Coach Yamiji, Coach Nekomata,” Ukai was saying. “It’s a really great opportunity for our boys to learn.”

“Vice versa, Ukai,” Nekomata replies. “I expect you’ll drink with this old man again?”

Yamiji laughs while Ukai grimaces. “Ah…”

“It’s quiet,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath. “Why is it quiet?”

And then, Kageyama stutters, “Good afternoon, A-Akaashi-san!”

The blurry letters click in his head.

Hinata whips his head up, eyes shining with newfound recognition. “Good afternoon, Akaashi-san! Your towel!”

“Good afternoon, Kageyama,” Akaashi says. He gives Hinata a small smile, taking the towel from him. “Thank you, Hinata. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Ah.” Tsukishima comes to his own realisation. “That’s why it’s quiet.”

The third years have graduated. The whole starting lineup for Fukurodani was brand new.

“I didn’t know your handwriting looked like that, Akaashi-san,” Hinata says. “It’s very squidgy.”

Akaashi looks bewildered. “My handwriting?”

“On the towel.”

“Don’t think you should bring that up, Shouyou,” Kenma whispers as Nekoma passes them. Hinata twists to look at him, confused.

“Why?”

“It’s fine, Hinata,” Akaashi says, a little sharp. He and Kenma eye each other tensely before the latter turns their attention to the court. “This isn’t my handwriting. Mine is a lot — neater.”

“You’re being rude again,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath, and Akaashi looks a bit strange, but they’d just played a full match and he was probably tired so Hinata shuts his mouth and follows the rest of the team to change so that they could begin their training.

-

“Why was that rude?” Hinata asks Tsukishima later that night as they’re bathing with Yamaguchi and Kageyama. “It was just handwriting.”

Tsukishima sighs.

“You don’t tell a senpai what you think about their handwriting, dumbass, even I know that,” Kageyama says. “Especially not Akaashi-san.”

“You just have a crush, Bakageyama.”

Hinata barely dodges the shampoo bottle thrown at him.

“I respect Akaashi-san because he is a great setter and gave me water!” Kageyama yells, beet red.

Tsukishima sighs again, irritated.

“I forgot you weren’t there when it happened,” he says. “Last summer, Bokuto-san and Akaashi-san mixed up their towels because they had the same ones. Bokuto-san then decided to write their names on their towels, but the pen wasn’t waterproof and it bled through when they washed it.”

Hinata frowns. “So it’s Bokuto-san’s handwriting? But why didn’t he just say so?”

Tsukishima lets out another long-suffering sigh. “Yamaguchi,” he says, muffling himself by draping his towel over his face, sliding downwards into the bath. “He has no brain. Please.”

Yamaguchi hesitates. “I don’t really know them,” he says. “But they were obviously very close.”

Hinata still doesn’t understand. “So?”

“So you know how Kenma isn’t used to how Kuroo-san isn’t around anymore?”

“Yeah.”

“So Akaashi-san probably feels the same. Especially since his whole team is new, because all the starters have graduated. Good times are always bittersweet in separation.”

-

“Kenma,” Hinata says when he’s hanging out in Nekoma’s room later that night. “Do you miss Kuroo-san?”

Kenma is playing a game, so it’s not very obvious, but his fingers stiffen for just a second on the buttons. “Why do you ask?”

“Kenma, you love us equally, right?” Yamamoto throws himself onto the hunched figure. “Not just that stinky bastard of a captain?”

“Fuck off, Tora. You’re the stinky bastard.”

“He loves us,” Yamamoto says as Kenma bashes at the buttons with increasing force. “Of course he misses Kuroo-san, but it’s better now that you’re here, because he loves you too. Lots of luuuuuurve.”

Kenma jabs a bony elbow into Yamamoto’s stomach, shaking him off like a disgruntled cat. “Fuck _off._ ”

“I love you too, Kenma!” Hinata says happily. Yamamoto drapes himself on top of Kenma again.

“We love you too, brain,” he teases. “We’ll keep the oxygen flowing—”

Kenma stands up with no warning and walks out of the room.

Or tries to, because he walks straight into Lev.

“Lev!” Yamamoto jumps to his feet. “Tell Kenma you love him!”

“Oh! Uh, I love you, Kenma-san!”

“I don’t want your love.”

They dogpile him, laughing and bombarding him with affection until Kenma shouts, “FINE! I love you too!”

“Yessssss,” Lev says, delighted. “I’m worthy!”

Kenma glares at them, then grabs Hinata’s arm. “Shouyou only.”

The room erupts in groans while Hinata cheers and gives him a bear hug.

“I love you too!”

-

_“Philia,” Hinata repeated. Yamaguchi nodded encouragingly._

_“He’s right, Hinata,” Yachi piped up, kind as always. “Then there’s_

**_storge, otherwise known as family love._ **

Autumn, 2012.

The last thing Hinata hears before he gets pinned to the ground is a loud “NII-CHAN!!!!!!”

The next thing Hinata sees is the sky, and his teammates’ bewildered faces towering over him.

“Who’s this?” Sugawara says, delighted. He crouches down, and Hinata turns his head to look at his vice-captain, dazed, a small child laughing on top of him. “You have a little sister, Hinata? Oh wow you look exactly the same. Hello!”

Hinata can hear his mother calling from down the street, so he picks his sister up and gets back on his feet. “Over here, mama!” he calls with a wave, though he realises a bit too late that he probably can’t be seen behind his taller teammates.

Sugawara has entrapped both of Natsu’s hands with a charming smile, the girl staring at him with sparkly eyes. “Are you nii-chan’s friends??”

Nishinoya also crouches down, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You bet! Your pigtails are super cute, little sister!”

A big grin stretches across Natsu’s face, enamoured by the idea that she suddenly has — apparently — at least five new older brothers. “Wow!”

Hinata’s mum finally arrives amidst frantic apologies. “Natsu! How many times have I told you to hold my hand —”

“Mama look! They’re all taller than Shouyou-nii!” Natsu shouts with all the surprise in the world. She detaches herself from Sugawara and grabs a random trouser-clad leg next to her. “I want to be friends with them too!”

“Natsu!” Their mum says, embarrassed. She looks at the leg’s owner. “Oh, I’m so sorry about her, young man…”

“Uh,” Kageyama manages, staring down at Natsu, who is happily rubbing her face into his thigh. A hint of confused constipation is edging into his expression, and Hinata immediately yanks Natsu away from Kageyama’s leg, terrified.

“Of all the people you could have chosen, you had to pick the one who probably murders children…” he mumbles in a panicky way.

Kageyama glares at him. “What the h—”

“ _Language_ ,” Yamaguchi cuts him off with a hiss. Tsukishima snorts derisively.

“Then I want this one!” Completely disregarding her brother, she shakes Hinata off and runs into Sugawara’s arms, who laughs and holds her steady as she points at Daichi. “He looks nice too!”

“Oh my— I’m so sorry, she’s being incredibly impulsive,” Hinata’s mum sighs.

“It’s absolutely fine!” Daichi gives her a reassuring smile, then leans down to look at Natsu. “How old are you, little sister?”

Natsu holds up her palm righteously. “Five,” she says, with all the seriousness of her age.

“A fine young woman already,” Sugawara whispers, and she giggles.

“This is nostalgic,” Daichi says with a grin to the flustered mum. “You see, my twin siblings just turned eight—”

“NATSU!!!” Hinata shouts, beet red. He yanks her away from the rest of his team before she can deal any more damage. “Go with mumma!! GO!!!!!”

Natsu sticks her tongue out and reluctantly takes their mum’s hand and is led away, but not before she darts forward and jabs her brother in the stomach, who crumples in agony.

“See you, Nacchan!” Sugawara calls, waving goodbye as Nishinoya jumps behind him.

Natsu doesn’t stop waving until they disappear round the corner.

Then they converge on Hinata.

“You withheld such a cute sister from us?” Sugawara clucks, mussing his orange curls furiously. “I’m disappointed in you, Hinata! You should have set up a playdate ages ago.”

“Come on, Shouyou-nii!” Nishinoya jumps onto his back. “Do better!”

“You’re literally the least qualified to be an older brother,” Tsukishima sniffs.

“Asahi, Tanaka! Why were you hiding in the alleyway?!” Daichi pulls the two out back onto the street.

Asahi looks ashamed, hiding in his jacket collar. “I didn’t want to make her cry…”

“We have the rights to access your sibling, Hinata!” Sugawara puffs his chest out righteously. “Any family of yours is family of ours! That goes the same for you—”

Kageyama’s eyes go wide when Sugawara loops an arm around his neck and pulls him down to frown at him. “Kageyama! You’re a pretty boy! Got any pretty siblings we should know about?”

“Any kingly siblings, more like,” Tsukishima snickers.

Daichi frowns at him. “Would you speak like that to your brother?”

“Actually, yeah. I mean—” Tsukishima backs down at the stern disapproval in his captain. “Well. No. But Kageyama isn’t my brother—”

“He’s as good as!” Tanaka throws his arm around both Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, forcing them to bend forwards in adjustment. “We’re a team! We’re family.”

“Well said, Ryuu!” Nishinoya shouts.

“So! We’re taking this seriously now. Let’s assign family positions. Asahi.” Sugawara points, and Asahi shrinks further into his jacket. “You’re the weird uncle. No, the odd next door neighbour. Actually, nah — you’re the pet dog.”

Daichi chokes back a laugh. Asahi gives them a look of utmost betrayal. “I’m not even human??!”

Sugawara ignores him. “Daichi, you’re the father of our kids.”

“No child of mine would ever be as tall as Tsukishima,” Daichi sighs.

“I don’t care!”

As their upperclassmen squabble over these petty nothings, a sense of calm washes over Hinata.

_We’re a team! We’re family._

_Let’s assign family positions._

“A real team,” Hinata whispers, awestruck.

Kageyama scowls at him. “What?”

Hinata plants his hands on his hips and stares at him. “Kageyama. I’m older than you by five months. Call me nii-san.”

Yamaguchi lets out a _pfft!_ before slapping his hand over his mouth. Tsukishima makes a strange noise that sounds like a chortle, turning his face away.

The angry constipated expression returns, and Kageyama grabs him by the hair, practically foaming at the mouth. “Fat chance, dumbass!”

-

_Hinata giggled a little. “Funny name. Like stork.”_

_“Where do you think the storks-deliver-babies myth came from?” Yamaguchi laughed._

_Tsukishima scoffed, shoving his strawberry pop in his mouth. “Does Hinata even know what storks are?”_

_“There’re storks in Japan, Tsukki.”_

_Hinata turned pointedly to Yachi. “Yacchan, there’s five more, right?”_

_“Ah! Yeah! Um, next up…I guess it’s gotta be_

**_agape — kind and selfless love._ **

Winter, 2015.

“There is one,” Washijo says. “An alumn of Shiratorizawa who switched over from indoor to beach volleyball after graduating.”

The two younger coaches fall silent. Ukai clenches his jaw to keep it from dropping open in shock.

“Of course Coach Washijo would know someone!” Saito finally says, pushing his glasses up in amazement. “That’s great! So where is he? Okinawa, perhaps, or some artificial facility nearby the prefecture —”

“Rio.”

“…Come again, sir?”

Washijo stares dead straight at Ukai, his grey eyes stony and sunken in his weathered face. “Rio,” he repeats, slowly. “Rio de Janeiro.”

-

(“I don’t think you understand,” Washijo says half a year later, with those hungry menacing eyes, a predator honing on to its target. “I’ll be damned if anyone has greater expectations of Hinata Shouyou than I do.”)

“‘Eeyyyy~! You there, orange-haired kid with the smiley sticker suitcase!”

A man waves at him, dirty-blond hair combed back in an unruly mess. “You must be Hinata Shouyou!”

Hinata pulls out a photograph from his pocket, looking up and down at the picture and the man. “Lucio Kato…san?”

“That’s me!”

Hinata scampers over, pulling his big suitcase along behind him in a clankering mess.

_Rio! Rio! I’m in Rio!_

“Lucio Kato,” the man says, taking Hinata’s carry-on and holding out a friendly hand. His white teeth are blinding under the sun. “Looking forward to your adventures here, Hinata-kun!”

“Thanks fer havin’ me,” Hinata yelps, staring wide-eyed at Lucio. The man is _tall._ He is forcibly reminded of Lev, whose Russian genes probably lent him an extra foot and half. Lucio isn’t as tall as that lanky two-meter beanpole, but he’s strong, with broad and confident shoulders, and a big grin to match. Hinata thinks about Bokuto.

Hinata shakes his head so he stops thinking about anything — or any _one_ — from Japan.

“Thanks for having me!” he repeats, louder this time. “I’ll be in your care! Sir!”

Lucio laughs, his grip firm and grounding. “It’s no prob, kid! Come on then, my car’s waiting outside.”

-

He’s a little jetlagged, so Hinata doesn’t notice his grip has slipped until Lucio lets out a painful hiss when the wheel of his suitcase slams onto his foot.

“I’M SORRY!” Hinata yells, frantically snapping out of his doze and grunting as he hauls the case back into the trunk. “I’M SO SORRY LUCIO-SAN I WASN’T PAYING ATTENTION—”

“It’s fine!” Lucio hushes him, half-grin-half-grimace. “It’s fine. I’ve had heavier things dropped on me before. Don’t worry about it, it’s been a long flight for you, kid, it would’ve been fine to wait in the car…”

“I’m so sorry,” Hinata wails in despair. People passing by look at him curiously. Hinata feels like he’s about to cry, staring down at the hot asphalt, he’s been in Brazil half an hour and he’s already injured his host—

“Hey,” Lucio says. A warm hand comes to rest on his shoulder, weighted and reassuring. “I’m okay, Hinata. It wasn’t your fault at all, so chill and just get on, alright?”

Hinata nods, numb.

-

“Well, not everyone’s a social butterfly,” Lucio remarks, after Pedro gives Hinata his less-than-warm welcome as a roommate. “He’s nice enough, just not very talkative. Especially around someone foreign, I guess. He split the bill with me and said he’d help microwave the takeout I got you, it’s in the fridge right now, so he’s alright in my book.”

Hinata’s stomach gives a loud grumble, and his face goes red. “Takeout?”

“I figured you’d want a home meal first thing, so I got you a curry katsudon from a nice Japanese place nearby. Everyone loves that stuff, so I figured it’d be fine. Think of it as a welcome meal from us.”

Still standing in the middle of the hallway, Hinata flings himself into a grateful bow, causing Lucio to step back in surprise. “Thank you, Lucio-san!”

“Ahhhh, it’s no big!” Lucio hastily shoves Hinata back upright. “You’ve come halfway around the world, you deserve some comfort food. Let’s go see your room! Just down here to the left...”

The door swings open with a soft creak, and Lucio flips the light switch on to reveal a little room with wooden furniture. “Tada! It’s cute, right?”

Hinata steps through the doorframe, stars in his eyes. “It’s so...Rio!”

The lampshade on the desk was painted with tiny tropical birds. Hinata peers at it, fascinated, runs his hands over the grainy wooden desk, the beanbag cushion on the chair. “So cool...”

Lucio crosses his arms, seeming satisfied. “You like it?”

“Lucio-san,” Hinata says seriously, straightening up from where he’s dumped his backpack on the bed. “This room is cooler than mine at home.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Lucio grins. “I reckoned this rustic style would be cool for a Japanese guy.”

“Can I ask you a question, Lucio-san?” Hinata hovers busily around the room, opening and closing the wardrobe and drawers, touching the musty curtains, fascinated by everything. “It might be a little rude though...”

“If it’s rude, I’ll tell you.” Lucio adjusts the lampshade slightly on its pedestal and nods, seemingly satisfied. “Go on.”

Hinata hesistates, then mumbles something under his breath.

“Come again?”

With a furtive look, Hinata glances around the room, then steps closer, as though afraid of being overheard. “I just...wondered how much you were being paid to host me...”

Lucio stares at him for a moment, stunned, then throws his head back and guffaws so infectiously that Hinata fights against an apologetic grin of his own. “You think I’m being paid for this?” he asks, incredulous. “You think that old stinker would _pay_ me to — gosh, kid, you really don’t know Coach Washijo, do you?”

“A-Apparently not, Lucio-san...”

With a wry grin, Lucio gestures to the room. “I was told to ferry you from the airport, find you a roommate, help you out with the volleyball. Apart from that? He told me you were gonna fend for yourself, coach’s orders. I said to my girlfriend, _the man has no sympathy! Kid’s coming over halfway across the world and he’s gotta ‘fend for himself’?!_ ”

Hinata blinks. “He said it was survival for the fittest, or something...”

“Sure, sure. Been saying it his whole life, I bet. I told my girl _screw it, I’ll help you settle in, the old man can’t stop me!_ This room was completely bare, so I’ve been down to thrift stores and such all of last week. Four walls and a mattress was all ol’ Washijo was gonna provide you with, so I thought, _man, I’d better step up!_ So I got you dinner. It’s really the very least I could have done.”

The bed. The lamp. Shelves, wardrobe, drawers, duvet and pillow and food—

“How much?” Hinata blurts out, fumbling for his wallet. “I can’t pay you back all at once, but I’ll write it down and get a job, Lucio-san, how much—”

“I won’t take a single cent, so put that shiny wallet away,” Lucio scolds, wagging a finger at him. Hinata freezes. “Top-ranking player like you takes an interest in beach volleyball? Someone good enough to get help from Washijo? Hell, I’m honoured to buy you some half-decent furniture to come home to, let alone host you!”

Hinata rubs his increasingly watery eyes, scrunching up his mouth.

Rio nights were cool, but something in his chest bloomed with a tingly warmth.

“Thank you so—”

“It’s no prob, don’t sweat it,” Lucio cuts him off before he even gets a chance to thank him, holding Hinata up by the shoulders so he can’t fling himself into a bow again. “Just make the most of it, okay?”

Hinata gives him the firmest salute he can.

“YESSIR!”

Lucio replies with a cheeky two-fingered wave, backing out the door. “I’ll see you tonight, Hinata Shouyou. And I’ll tell Pedro to fire up your dinner, so get some rest before I tire you out at the beach tonight!”

It’s barely within Hinata’s power to keep his sobbing internal.

“YESSIR!!!!!!”

-

_“I think you’ve got plenty of agape, Yacchan! Yamaguchi!”_

_Yamaguchi gave him a brilliant smile. “You’ve got plenty yourself, Hinata!”_

_“You’re on a different level, Hinata,” Yachi laughed, but it’s not self-deprecating. “You know what else you got a lot of? Self-appreciation.”_

_“Have I?” Hinata looked down at himself, pleased. “Does that count as a type of love too?”_

_“Yep.” Yamaguchi was still smiling, but it’s different. More solemn, a bit wistful. “The Greeks called it_

**_philautia...the concept of self-love._ **

Summer, 2016.

“Oikawa-san,” Hinata says as they munch on fried chicken and salad. “How have you been coping with being away from home.”

Oikawa nearly chokes on his lettuce.

“First,” he says, after taking a long sip of water, “You stop referring to Japan as home.”

Hinata’s eyes bulge. “ _What?!!_ ”

“Think about it,” Oikawa continues, ignoring his utter disbelief. “The Argentina league never stops moving around South America, right? We’re always going around for training, and matches, over and over again.”

“But Japan is home—”

“The _court_ is home.” Oikawa cuts him off sharply. “As long as you’re on court, you’re at home. That way, you don’t miss it as much.”

Hinata stares at his plate, trying to think through his logic. “But don’t you miss everyone back h— back in Japan?”

“Chibi-chan, can I see your phone wallpaper?”

As soon as the screen comes on, Oikawa shakes his head. “Old teammates are a no.”

“But I—”

“When I left Japan, three years ago.” The setter’s fingers tap restlessly against the table, his fine-trimmed nails barely making a sound. “I put Seijoh as everything. My social media icons, wallpapers, colour theme...everything was Seijoh. To remind me of where I flourished, and who allowed me to do so.”

Hinata glances furtively at his milk box phone case.

(“ _You’re_ giving me a present?? Do you have a fever, or something—”

“Well _someone_ needs to protect your new phone from you, dumbass, just take it or I’ll shove it down your throat!”

“Okay, okay! Geez, it’s Christmas, speak nicely for once...”)

“I wanted to go back,” Oikawa continues. “I almost noped out of my place on the league team. I found myself swiping through photos before bed, and dreaming about being with...them.”

The ice in his soda clinks against the glass, a quiet sound lost in the busy restaurant.

Oikawa clicks open his phone, displaying a view of the sunset as his wallpaper. “I had to go neutral before I self-destructed.”

Hinata thinks that probably no one else he knows would be able to lay themselves so bare of a painful truth.

“You might be different from me, chibi-chan.” Oikawa grins. “Maybe this grounds you down, reels you in before you fly too high. But we all find comfort in different ways. Mine was detachment.”

“Detachment?”

He didn’t like that word. It reminded him of middle school, when he was separated — detached —from the rest of his sports friends, just because he was playing at a club that barely existed. They were still friends, and they helped him, but they weren’t a team. He preferred to be attached, connected.

“Not everything is volleyball, Hinata,” Oikawa says. “It sounds fake, but it’s true. I learnt that the hard way. I had to separate my friends from volleyball so that it wouldn’t just be my friends from volleyball, you know?”

Hinata stares at him, speechless. Oikawa winces.

“Call me selfish, but...you need to think of yourself before almost everything else. How does it make _you_ feel? Is it the best you can do for _yourself_? Those are the questions to consider.”

“How did it make you feel? When you cut yourself off from everyone else?” Hinata asks, almost against his own will. Friendly as they were now in foreign land, the Grand King was still the Grand King — was still a senpai.

But Oikawa didn’t seem to mind the question.

“I thought I fucked up when Iwa-chan sent me a picture of him with Ushiwaka in California.”

The words did not click. Iwa-chan. Ushiwaka. California.

Iwaizumi-san. Ushijima-san.

...California????

“I thought, _ah crap, I went too far with the detaching, now Iwa-chan’s cheating on me..._ ” Oikawa laughed, oblivious to the five million question marks racing through Hinata’s head. “Then I realised, self-love is spam-texting your best friend whenever you want to, and not caring if he blocks you because you know he’ll unblock you sooner or later and read through all the spamming regardless.”

Pushing aside the confusion about California, Hinata asked, “So which was the best for you, Oikawa-san? Detaching, or spam-texting?”

Oikawa hums.

“It depends. But at the end of the day, I do what I like, and my friends know it’s tough, and they tease me endlessly for it. Self-love, I tell them. Self-love.”

-

Hinata stares at his phone later that night, after an encouraging couple hours with Oikawa on the beach.

He keeps the lockscreen. He removes the phonecase, stowing it safely in a drawer.

He calls his sister.

She scolds him about the wallet, and his mother fusses over him, about him not taking care of his things like always, _remember when you lost your volleyball shoes just before a big game!_ and he refuses to cry when Natsu says, in a subdued way, “The house is quiet now, nii-chan. It’s strange.”

_Self-love, I tell them. Self-love._

“Love you too, Nacchan.”

The peace that rolls through him after that makes everything settle in all the right places.

( _“Do your stretches properly, eat the right things, and don’t get sick again, dumbass!”_ )

_Right._

_That’s self-love too._

Hinata lays out his new yoga mat, takes a deep breath, and starts.

-

_“In my opinion,” Yachi said, “That’s the most important one.”_

_Yamaguchi nodded. “You have to learn to love yourself and be careful with yourself before anything else.”_

_Hinata looked at the melted remnants of the dripping popsicle in his hands. “Self-love is bubblegum flavoured things.”_

_“To think this guy is 18,” Tsukishima muttered._

_Multiple squeaks were heard as Hinata jumped in front of him and grabbed his collar. “Say it again, I dare you!”_

_Straightening up with a smirk, Tsukishima easily pushed the smaller boy away. “You know what an adult love is? Something suitable for 18 and aboves? It’s_

**_eros. Physical adoration...and passion._ **

December, 2017.

The beach goes wild as the newly-weds eat face in front of all their guests.

Hinata is crying a little bit, jumping up and down in his casual suit. He claps and cheers and downs a glass of champagne, waving it at Heitor when he turns around with a triumphant grin, lipstick smeared on his mouth.

-

“Heitorrrrr,” Hinata slurs, maybe two hours later. They are dancing together, amidst the laughing crowd as Nice is passed from friend to friend. Heitor wraps his arms around Hinata and laughs when orange curls are smushed against his shoulder.

“Heitorrr. I’m so glad. So glaaaaaad...we were partnersss...”

“You’re drunk, my man!” Heitor roars with laughter, himself drunk on bliss and a few bottles of wine. “Someone get my partner to a chair before he passes out on me!”

So Hinata watches the dancing from a chair as Heitor’s niece fans him. Watches as Nice twirls back into Heitor’s arms, slinky white dress and hair falling loose. Watched the way Heitor’s hand wraps around her hip, the way they move together in perfect sync, rolling in tandem with each other.

“You okay?” the niece asks him, when he groans and faceplants the table.

“Yeah,” he tells her, with a lopsided grin. “Go dance with someone.”

She shakes her hair back in place and gives him a winning smile. “Okay.”

With the alcohol fogging him up, Hinata allowa himself to miss someone, to miss him so hard that it hurt more than getting sand up his nose.

The way he tossed, the curve of his back and straightness of his fingers.

The way he bit his lips raw when he got stuck on a particularly nasty maths equation.

The way he arched through the air and landed a winning serve in the freaking _Olympics_. At _nineteen._

It was a good thing that the milk box phone case was in his room, safe in a drawer. Otherwise he might’ve taken it out and stared drunkenly at it, or pressed it to his face, or something equally embarrassing.

-

_“Let’s keep it PG,” Yamaguchi suggested, looking around worriedly. They were in the middle of the street, after all. “Let’s move on to the lighter version of that...”_

_Yachi frowned, as did Hinata. “Lighter? What do you mean, Gucchi?”_

_“I’m not sure I know that one, Yamaguchi-kun,” Yachi said apologetically._

_“So still playful, but less physical?” Tsukishima droned with an eye-roll. “You mean_

**_ludus. The fun, flirty love._ **

Spring, 2018.

Atsumu is sulking. Everyone gives him a wide berth, where he was curled up in the corner of the locker room, pointedly looking away and talking loudly to others over his incessant stream of grumbling.

“Don’t look, Hinata,” Tomas says, when he caught their newest member giving their setter worried glances over his shoulder. “This isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.”

“What happened?” Hinata asks. “I didn’t think Atsumu-san would be like that...”

Tomas finishes tying up his laces and stands, all 201 centimetres casting an imposing shadow on Hinata. “Well...he’s a lot moodier than a lot of us thought he would be...”

The locker room door bangs open.

“Good afternoon, guys!” Bokuto shouts, earning a couple “shh!”s and furtive glances towards the corner.

“And that would be the reason why,” Tomas adds lowly. Hinata jumps to his feet.

“Good afternoon, Bokuto-san!”

Bokuto waves at him, then beelines straight towards the corner. A couple of teammates cringe. Some rush out the door to avoid the confrontation. “Hey hey hey, ‘Tsum-tsum! What’s up with you today? You never replied to my texts last night—”

Atsumu rouses himself like a corpse returning to ferocious life, grabbing Bokuto’s arm. “ARE MY TOSSES NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU?? HUH???”

Bokuto gives him a confused smile. “Huh?”

“Not again,” Tomas sighed. “Why is he so insecure...”

“Your tosses are great, ‘Tsumu—”

“THEN STOP CAPTIONING PICTURES OF YOUR OLD SETTER WITH ‘ _STILL THE BEST TOSSES’_!!”

A beat.

Then Bokuto starts laughing. “Twitter? This is about _Twitter_??”

“Not _funny_ , Bokkun.” Atsumu grabs him by the collar. “I’m the best. _I_ toss to you now. Don’t you forget that.”

And with that, Atsumu storms out of the locker room.

As if on cue, Sakusa steps into the locker room, nose crinkled above his mask. “What the hell is with him now?”

Bokuto is clutching his stomach and wheezing.

“Irrational jealousy,” Tomas says wearily.

“I don’t know, but I’m scared,” Hinata says brightly. “Good afternoon Sakusa-san!”

Sakusa rolls his eyes and starts changing.

-

By the mid-practice break, Atsumu seemed to have forgotten all about his tantrum.

“Omi-kun, could you call for tosses just a _bit_ more frequently?” he asks sweetly, sidling up to Sakusa, who scowls and steps away. “It’s such a waste, having one of Japan’s top spikers and he’s _not doing anything_.”

Sakusa doesn’t respond. Atsumu lets out a gasp, hand fluttering to his mouth. “Don’t tell me — you’re still humiliated by your loss to Ushijima in the Kurowashiki??!!”

“ _My_ loss?” Sakusa turns to him, low and irritated. “ _We_ lost. Don’t forget how _you_ flubbed half your tosses in the third set.”

“Yeeeaaaahhhhhh but Bokkun still hit them. You, sir, gave us _nothing_.”

“It wasn’t like he scored.” Sakusa stretches and looks away, clearly done with the unwantedconversation.

Hinata glances nervously at Bokuto, who is hiding behind his water bottle with a half-formed scowl.

Atsumu collapses on the bench and drapes one sweaty arm over Hinata’s shoulders. “You weren’t here for it, Shou-chan. Dunno what was up with us that day, but musta been one of the worst we’d played...Omi-omi had just joined us then...”

Sakusa glares at him. “Stop talking about me.”

“I literally just mentioned your name,” Atsumu smiles innocently at him. “Do you care so much about what I say?”

“I’m gonna spike right into your stupid mouth when we do 3-on-3 later,” Sakusa threatens.

“I look hotter _without_ a broken nose, Omi-kun.”

“You know what they say.” Sakusa looms over Atsumu, his dark hair casting a menacing shadow across his face. “Break their nose, break their heart.”

Hinata scoots across the bench, leaning closer to Bokuto, who offers him his bottle of water as consolation.

Atsumu looks delighted, staring right back. Daring him.

Meian pulls the two apart.

“That’s _enough,_ ” he barks, yanking at the backs of their shirts like naughty puppies. “No one says that. The two of you always pull bullshit phrases out your asses.”

“Sorry cap’n,” they say in unison, like they’ve done the same thing a thousand times over.

“You never are.” Meian drops his grip on them. “And stop dragging the poor newbie into your endless flirting.”

Atsumu whistles an innocent tune. Sakusa clicks his tongue with clear annoyance and stalks away, striking up a question about receives with Inunaki. Hinata looks at Bokuto, aghast. “Is that what flirting looks like, Bokuto-san??”

Bokuto shrugs. “I have no clue,” he declares. “But I don’t want it. You?”

Hinata stares at Atsumu for one moment longer. He looks a little bit pleased, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while he towels off and talks to the others about formations and set types.

“Probably not.”

“Thought so. ‘Tsum-tsum! Toss!”

“Bokkun! Not now!”

-

_“Tsukishima, you know how to flirt?” Hinata’s eyes were wide._

_“Last time a girl tried to flirt with you, you shut her down so hard she cried,” Yamaguchi said severely. “You don’t know how to flirt.”_

_“There’s a difference between not knowing and not wanting to,” Tsukishima retorted. “She was being annoying.”_

_“Still rude, Tsukki.”_

_“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”_

_“Anyways!” Yachi interjected hurriedly. “There’s only one type left, right? One more type of love, Hinata!”_

_“Last one!” Yamaguchi put his hand over Tsukishima’s mouth just as he was about to say something sarcastic; he looked surprised at the movement, glancing at Yamaguchi with no little amount of shock. “You ready?”_

_Hinata dropped into the pre-receive position. “Ready!”_

_-_

November 17th, 2018.

“That was the best!” Hinata cheers, pumping his fists excitedly despite the tiredness flowing through his limbs. He’s a little bit dizzy, but that doesn’t stop him from being still hyped up. “Best match ever!! Loved it! Amazing!!!”

“Have a banana,” Meian says. “You’re gonna pass out.”

“Hinata, hey!!” Bokuto slaps his back, causing him to jolt forward and nearly faceplant the floor. “That was amazing! I knew you had it in you!”

Hinata’s head whips up, eyes shining with delight. “Bokuto-san...!!”

Atsumu drops a towel on his head. “You should’ve seen the way Tobio-chan was looking, Shou-chan.He was _happy_. Grinning like a fool. Did you see? You should’ve seen. Especially when you got Ushiwaka’s spike two times in a row.”

A flush of heat curls through Hinata’s stomach. “He was?”

There is a knock on the locker room door.

“Oh yeah, people are coming by,” Meian says. “Heads up, boys.”

The first was Inunaki’s girlfriend. Then Inunaki’s brother, and Tomas’ friends. Then—

“Good game,” Osamu says, holding up a box of bentos. “Anyone hungry?”

The locker room overflows with excited hollers.

“KITA RICE,” Atsumu yells, knocking his brother to the ground.

“TSUMU GET YOUR SWEAT OFF ME.”

“ONIGIRI!!!” Bokuto bellows, charging forwards with his shirt half off. Osamu hands the box to Meian, who holds it away from the rest of the team, all staring at the box with wolfish eyes.

“You don’t get any.” Osamu crosses his arms, satisfied at their responses.

Bokuto’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Why not!?!??!”

“Your old setter bought, like, a third of my stock.”

“Of course he— did he save some for me?!?” Bokuto lunges towards his bag, digging out his phone.

Akaashi appears in the doorway. “I saved you two, Bokuto-san.”

“YESSSS.”

Udai sticks his head out behind Akaashi. “Hinata!!! Great game!!!!”

Hinata’s excitement levels fly through the roof. “UDAI-SAN!”

“There’s too many monster generation people in here,” Meian clucks, though it’s good-natured. “Get out. I want to eat my onigiri in peace. The good Miya gets to stay.”

“I’m sorry??” Atsumu squawks. “Who’s the MSBY setter again??!”

Osamu waves jauntily at him before the locker room door slams shut.

Hinata is a little overwhelmed. There’s too many people! He hasn’t seen them in years!! They’re patting his head and saying good game and looking at him with kind eyes!!!!

“Hinata, you’re crying,” Akaashi says gently. Hinata rubs his eyes and laughs. Everyone is smiling at him, talking about volleyball and dinner and fun times —

Then —

“Hinata.”

Kageyama stands panting at the end of the hallway, his jacket half hanging off his shoulders.

-

_“Pragma,” Yamaguchi said, almost wistfully. “Long-lasting, ever-growing love.”_

_Something about the way he said it, in the evening sun. Hinata went quiet._

_“Ever-growing?”_

_“Love isn’t easy, Hinata.” Yachi smiled, as if she was holding some beautiful secret. “You need to keep it building, keep it growing. Overcome obstacles, figure out what works. Pragma.”_

_“It’s like volleyball, dumbass.”_

_Kageyama spoke for the first time since they started on the topic. They all turned to stare at him, obliviously finishing his third carton of milk._

_“How?” Hinata finally asked._

_“You keep training, don’t you?” Kageyama looked at him, steady and somehow seeming wise. “It’s hard. You figure out what to eat, what drills to do. How to beat strong rivals. And you love it.”_

_“So love is like volleyball,” Hinata nodded. “That makes sense, Kageyama! Love through volleyball!”_

_“Love through volleyball,” Kageyama repeated._

_“Yeah!”_

_Yamaguchi laughed, a twinkling thing. Yachi beamed at them. “Sure. You could say that.”_

_“Gods above,” Tsukishima sighed. “Do your brains know anything outside of volleyball?”_

_-_

Hinata isn’t sure who moved first, or how they crashed into each other, or why they moved in the first place.

All he knows is Kageyama’s hand is pulling at his curls, except it’s much less rougher than it used to be, and his face is buried in Kageyama’s shoulder and he’s crying a lot of stupid tears into Kageyama’s shoulder but for some reason he’s not getting told off for it and his fingers are digging into Kageyama’s back, and he’s never felt more relieved in his life.

“Tobio-chan, are you...crying?” Atsumu eventually says, incredulous. Hinata’s feet are off the floor.

“No,” Kageyama mumbles, but it’s definitely choked up.

Hinata looks at him, still crying all his stupid tears. “Kageyama...”

“You’re strong,” Kageyama tells him, cutting off his blubbering. He’s definitely crying. “Really...really strong. I don’t — how — you should’ve taken me to Rio too —”

“You were in the Olympics!” Hinata yelps. His feet are still off the floor. He kicks them lightly in petulance. “You don’t get to say that after you played for Japan at _nineteen —”_

“I,” Kageyama continues, ignoring him, “will become even stronger. I will win. Again.”

Hinata tries to headbutt him. “Are you challenging me!”

Kageyama sets him down, finally, and squeezes his hand. “Yes. And I will always — be. I am your strongest challenger.”

Hinata squeezes back, grinning. “Even in twenty more years?”

“Even in _thirty,_ ” Kageyama threatens, the old glare returning to his expression. Hinata isn’t so sure he’d win in an arm wrestling contest anymore, but damn it if he isn’t going to try.

He laughs. Kageyama smiles, no longer the awkward scary attempt from first year in high school.

Hinata thinks it’s — exquisite, maybe.

“Deal!”

Then —

“In case you don’t remember, Tobio-chan,” Atsumu says loudly, swaggering forward. “This is _my_ wing spiker now, got me? _I’m_ the strongest setter here.”

Kageyama looks at him. “But I’m ranked above you, Atsumu-san.”

“Pish posh _rankings_ , you —” Atsumu lunges furiously for him.

Bokuto is laughing, whole-hearted and ecstatic. Udai is smiling behind his hand. “Akaashi! Join the challenge!! You can do it!!”

“Against two nationally-ranked players?” Akaashi looks mildly horrified, though Kageyama still looks at him with utmost respect. “You think too highly of me, Bokuto-san...”

“Ahh come on, I know you can take them —”

Amongst the bustling jabs and ruckus, Hinata looks at their hands, still squeezed together in promise.

_Love through volleyball._

_Sure. You could say that._

He laughs.

Like he’s holding some beautiful secret.

_Love._

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/silently%20punk_?s=20) :)
> 
> thank you for reading!


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